


Beat The Devil's Tattoo

by fightlikeagirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, demon!Lucifer, human!Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:32:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightlikeagirl/pseuds/fightlikeagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If guardian demons are a thing, that’s what Sam’s got. Gabriel’s still not sure how he feels about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beat The Devil's Tattoo

The sky itself heralds his coming.

It's an ashy gray, like a fire that's gone out and been thoroughly doused, and the clouds grow thick. They're stormclouds, pure and simple; they can mean only one thing. They'll build and build, darken the sky in ever deepening degrees, but it won't rain. Not yet.

And there will be a stillness to the air, an unnatural one. It's calm, but it's not peaceful, and it sets your teeth on edge. It says that all this is building to something, that something dark is on its way. Something wicked this way comes.

"It might not be him," Sam says.

"It's him," Gabriel says shortly.

"You don't know that. It might just be an ordinary storm."

Gabriel just shrugs. It's not an ordinary storm, and they both know it. They can feel it, down to their bones.

And as the sky continues to darken, the anticipation will build in both of them, delicious and terrifying at the same time. They'll grow increasingly distracted, and more than one plate will be broken.

Gabriel catches Sam in the garden one evening, still as a statue and staring at the sky. He's shivering, and he looks like he's been out there for hours.

"What are you thinking about?" Gabriel asks.

"Stupid question. You know exactly what I'm thinking about." Sam's voice is sharp, full of edges and tension, but he sighs and leans into the hand Gabriel pushes through his hair. "Do you think he does it on purpose?"

"What? The weather?"

"Yeah," Sam says. "Maybe it's something he can't control. Like an omen. Or maybe he does it deliberately, just to be awful."

"I don't know." It's not something Gabriel had thought about, but he gets the feeling it's been bothering Sam for a while. "Maybe he's just being dramatic."

That gets a laugh, at least, for all that it's short and harsh and catches in Sam's throat.

"You think about him too much," Gabriel says, rubbing Sam's shoulders.

Sam exhales, breath misting in front of him. "I'm his. You know that perfectly well, you just don't want to acknowledge it."

"So your mother made some mistakes," Gabriel says. "It shouldn't mean you have to pay for them."

"I'm not _paying_ for them," Sam says. "Not really. This is a voluntary gig. I'm just—his, is all. And he cares about me. He wouldn't come, otherwise."

"You're mine, too," Gabriel says, leaning forward and kissing his cheek, and Sam nods. "Don't forget that."

"How much longer, do you think?"

"I don't know," Gabriel says again. "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day."

It's not tomorrow. It's not the next day. Somehow, though, when they wake up on the third day, they both know it, they can both feel it. "He's almost here," Sam breathes, and Gabriel doesn't say anything at all.

Sam is jittery with the anticipation for the entire day, and he slices his hand open when he drops a glass. It's not deep, but Gabriel clucks over it anyway and bandages it up.

"You can't do this sort of thing to yourself," he says.

"Sorry," Sam mutters, and Gabriel pulls him in and kisses his forehead.

"You need to sit still and calm down," he says firmly, and to prove his point, pushes Sam down onto the couch and drops himself into his lap. "Pass me my book," he adds.

"You're annoying when you're being sensible," Sam grumbles, handing Gabriel the book.

Somehow, they manage to make it through the day without any breakdowns, and evening finds Gabriel still determinedly reading his book, Sam curled up in an armchair, staring at the door.

"A watched pot never boils, you know."

"Don't be absurd," Sam says. "That isn't how it works."

"Maybe not with pots," Gabriel concedes, and goes back to his book.

At approximately half-past eight in the evening, there are footsteps on the front porch, and Sam sits up, pushing his hair behind his ears. They've left the front door unlocked, but they both suspect it wouldn't matter much if they didn't. It's only vampires who need an invitation, after all. Gabriel is still staring at his book, but he's gone very still.

And then the door opens, and _he_ walks in.

"Lucifer," Sam breathes.

He's an unassuming figure, in faded jeans and a green work shirt over an olive t-shirt. His hands are folded in his pockets, and there's a faint smile playing around the edges of his mouth. He doesn't look like any kind of demon, but Sam and Gabriel know better.

"Sam," Lucifer says, inclining his head. "Good to see you again. And you, Gabriel."

"Hrmm," Gabriel mutters, peering at his book, although he hasn't turned the page in ten minutes.

"He's ever the gracious host, isn't he, Sammy?" Lucifer says, drifting toward Sam and letting one hand curl around his neck, toying with his hair where it curls around the base of his skull. Sam closes his eyes and lets out a little noise, almost like a purr, and Gabriel rolls his eyes.

"I'm not interested tonight," he says.

"Gabriel," Sam says, a bit plaintively. Lucifer's head is cocked, and there's a look of amused curiosity on his face.

"Just because you can get Sam to roll over and spread his legs whenever you want doesn't mean I'll do the same," Gabriel says, glaring at the pages of his book.

"There's no call to be unkind," Lucifer says, hand still in Sam's hair, stroking it in a soothing sort of way.

Gabriel snorts. "You should have seen him. He's barely slept in days, waiting for you."

" _Gabriel_ ," Sam says, sounding wounded and blushing furiously.

"We're not your playthings, Lucifer," Gabriel says, and finally lifts his eyes to scowl at Lucifer. "You don't get to just put us back in the box when you're done with us. And you don't get to torture Sam like this."

"I'm not _torturing Sam_ ," Lucifer says, sounding mildly exasperated, and the first few raindrops patter on the roof.

Gabriel shakes his head. "Sam, show him what you did to yourself this morning."

"It's nothing," Sam says quickly, shoving his hand in his pocket, and then, as Lucifer's hand tightens in his hair, "Lucifer!"

"Show me," he says softly, and Sam pulls his hand out reluctantly. Lucifer undoes the bandage gently, hissing in sympathy and pressing his lips to Sam's palm. When he pulls away, his hand is smooth, no wound. Sam is looking up at him in a kind of awe-struck glory that makes Gabriel want to punch something.

"Don't you dare turn this around on him later," Gabriel says. "Don't you dare turn this into something he owes you for."

Lucifer turns around slowly, and the thrumming of rain on the roof picks up. He stalks over to Gabriel, who shrinks into the couch a little, but maintains eye contact defiantly. Sam watches, wide-eyed, as Lucifer pins Gabriel down, hands on his shoulders, straddling his hips with a knee on either side of his waist.

"I am far, far older than you are or will ever be, Gabriel," Lucifer says, voice low and rough and ancient. "You know nothing of the things I have done. I've killed others for far less insolence than you've shown me. I could burn you where you stand with less than a thought. It would be like crushing a fly. I could do whatever I wanted to you and Sam and you would be helpless to stop me; if you think you know hatred, I could do things to you that would redefine the term to you, and still make you come crawling on your belly, begging for my touch."

Outside, thunder rolls and the lights flicker, and for just a moment, Sam thinks he can see great dark shapes, curving out from Lucifer's back. He shivers. There's an intensity in Lucifer's gaze and a tension in his form that Sam's never seen before.

"If I wanted, I could drag you both down to hell with me," Lucifer breathes, lips ghosting across Gabriel's neck. "I am a _demon_ , a prince of Hell, and you are nothing but a man. Sam is mine, but you are not. Don't you _ever_ presume to tell me what I am and what I am not allowed to do."

"Fuck you," Gabriel snarls, but he can't hold back the whimper as Lucifer grinds his hips against him.

"Don't pretend you don't want me," Lucifer murmurs, tilting his face up with a thumb on his chin and kissing him softly. "You know what I can do to you. As if you could even say no to me."

The rain is pouring down, now, probably enough for flood warnings to be in effect in other parts of town. It sounds like the sky itself has been rent open, and Sam jumps when lightning cracks outside. Lucifer glances back over at him, licking his lips, and Sam blushes.

"And Sam's been waiting so patiently," he says, turning his gaze back to Gabriel. "Of course, I wouldn't _mind_ having him all to myself—I have all kinds of wicked things planned for him—"

"You _asshole_ ," Gabriel snaps, surging up and kissing him, hard. He's breathing shallowly when he pulls away, and Lucifer looks particularly satisfied.

"Bedroom, I think," he says softly, standing and taking Sam by the hand, and Gabriel trails behind them, still looking put-out.

Sex with Lucifer is still a wild, dark and heady affair; it's like nothing either of them have experienced before, and it's always just as good, just as shameless. It doesn't take much to make Sam tilt his head back and beg, but Gabriel is always reluctant, determined to hold out, maintain some measure of dignity.

Lucifer is always delicate, always gentle with Sam, teasing mewling cries and pleas out of him with the utmost care. He never takes anything that Sam doesn't give him willingly, and he gives so much of himself in return. He is utterly loving, in a way that seems strange and foreign on a demon.

Not so with Gabriel. With Gabriel, he's rough and clawed, makes Gabriel fight him every step of the way, and Gabriel is perversely grateful for that. He's glad to have his scratches and bruises in the morning, proof that if he's going to let a demon take him, at least he won't make it easy. Lucifer was right—he _wants_ —but he doesn't want tenderness from a monster.

They never forget that the creature they're with isn't human. That Lucifer has seen and done things that would driven anyone else mad, that his sense of morality is not quite aligned with most people's.

Tonight, he's particularly attentive towards Sam; reverent, almost. Sam's never been entirely clear on what he was to Lucifer, why Lucifer paid so much attention to him, what Lucifer had even wanted with him in the first place. Tonight only makes things hazier.

"I like watching the two of you together," Lucifer says, pushing Sam into Gabriel's lap and crawling in between his legs. "You're so sweet. It's cute. I could just eat you both up." He licks his lips, and Sam shudders, a warm, dark, shivering curl.

Lucifer meets Gabriel's eyes above Sam's head, and they share a long look.

"He needs this, doesn't he," Lucifer says quietly.

"He needs _you_ ," Gabriel says roughly. "You can't keep leaving him like this. He's mine, too, but he needs you."

Lucifer nods. "You wish he didn't. You know that there's darkness inside him." He looks regretful, in a way. "I'm sorry."

"You're not," Gabriel says, and Lucifer smiles in a rueful sort of way.

In between them, Sam makes a pleading noise, low in his throat, and Lucifer leans down to kiss him. "I'm sorry I was away for so long, Sammy," he says against Sam's mouth.

"It's alright," Sam sighs, and, " _oh_."

He teases Sam open with an unending tenderness, one hand on his hip, tracing feather-light circles into his skin and making him squirm. His eyes flutter shut as Gabriel presses soft kisses all across his neck and shoulders. The reach of his fingers is deep and clever, and he's learned all the right places to touch Sam to take him apart. Everything about him is dark and ancient and oh-so-experienced.

Sam's eyes snap open when Gabriel's fingers join Lucifer's, moans and arches his back. "Gabriel," he groans, and Gabriel takes a certain amount of pleasure from the tone in which his name is said. He watches Lucifer's eyes go dark as he pushes into Sam, and feels his own breath catch in his throat.

This is when Lucifer always loses a certain amount of the control and reserve he always seems to have. He's still just as loving with Sam, but he doesn't fuck delicately, and Gabriel thinks Sam may like that. Sometimes, Gabriel thinks Sam may be deliberately trying to pull Lucifer apart, to see how much of the darkness Sam can get him to release.

No, he's not delicate. He fucks Sam hard, rocking him back against Gabriel, who lets out a stunned " _Fuck_ , Lucifer." He fucks Sam like he can reach Gabriel through him, if he just goes hard enough, and the friction is enough that Gabriel is inclined to agree.

"God," Sam murmurs, "Lucifer, Lucifer," like some kind of litany, and then, in a ragged, gasping breath, " _Gabriel_." His breath hitches as Lucifer drives into him with a kind of furious passion, head dropping back on Gabriel's shoulder.

He performs beautifully, arches his back and moans, bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, Lucifer whispering filthy praise loud enough for Gabriel to hear. It's hotter and more debased than any kind of porn, and watching Sam shudder through his release is almost enough to finish Gabriel off.

And he wants to fight it when Lucifer gently tugs him out from under Sam, licking up the underside of his cock, tracing his tongue around the head. Wants to fight the fact that there's a _demon_ sucking him off, but he's helpless to do anything but arch up into Lucifer's mouth, groaning when Lucifer swallows it down.

"Here," Lucifer whispers, when he's gone limp and boneless, taking his unresisting wrist and placing a black Sharpie in his hand. Lucifer wraps his fingers around Gabriel's, drawing a strange symbol on Sam's stomach, a sharp angle with a curl at the top. 

"That tickles," Sam says, squirming and glancing down at himself through drooping lashes.

"It's my name," Lucifer says, stretching out against his back and wrapping an arm around his waist. "My summoning sigil."

Sam hums in assent, pecks Lucifer on the lips, before pulling Gabriel in close to himself. And they fall asleep in a tangled mess of limbs, Gabriel and Sam and their demon.

—

In the morning, Gabriel is a bit perturbed to find a demon in his kitchen, examining his coffee maker and prodding it with a spoon. He thinks this may be the beginning to a good joke.

"You're still here," he says, trying not to sound too accusing.

"Yes," Lucifer says, still staring at the coffee maker. "Is Sam still asleep?"

"Yeah," Gabriel says, " _why_ are you still here?"

Lucifer straightens up, turns around, folds his arms across his chest. He's doing the thing where he peers down his nose at Gabriel, makes him feel like he's being studied by an ancient entity who finds him terribly amusing, the way anyone else would find a dog chasing its tail amusing.

"I have some time," he says. "I thought I'd stay here for a few days. Sam needs me." He pauses. "How old is he, now?"

"He turned twenty-two last month," Gabriel says. "Shouldn't you know that kind of thing?"

Lucifer doesn't answer, just prods at the coffee maker again. "I don't know how to work this," he admits, and Gabriel resists the urge to laugh at him. For the most part.

"Here," he says, grabbing the filters out of the cupboard, and Lucifer looks mildly relieved.

"Something's going on, isn't it," Gabriel says as they watch the coffee drip into the pot. "This isn't a purely social visit."

Lucifer takes a long breath and exhales. "No," he says. "There's—things are starting to happen. It's complicated."

"I can handle complicated," Gabriel says, and glares when Lucifer laughs.

"Believe me," he says, "the politics of Hell are so complex and absurdly childish, you couldn't begin to understand if I had a year to explain them."

Gabriel purses his lips, but doesn't question the matter further. "You're not going to take him away from me," he says. "Not without a fight."

"He'd never consent to go anywhere without you," Lucifer says, nodding. "And I think I'd rather just keep both of you." He runs a slow tongue across his lips, and Gabriel shivers. "You're cheeky. I like it. And you keep him safe, and I appreciate that. I am grateful to you, you know."

There's a briefly awkward pause, in which Gabriel looks away, unsure of what to say. "Coffee's ready," he mutters, shoving a chipped mug with a beaver on it at Lucifer.

"Thank you," Lucifer says. He ignores the milk Gabriel gestures to, and the sugar, drinking the coffee straight. "He's important. More so than you realize."

"I know he's important," Gabriel says, and Lucifer nods.

"Yes," he says. "I suppose you do."

**Author's Note:**

> christ almighty i think this is from literally december
> 
> oh yeah and the prompt from gunshynonymous was "calm before the storm"


End file.
